A Waste
by mysunwolf
Summary: Remus is plagued by memories, as usual. And life hurts. Mebe a bit OOC... and a darkfic, I guess I should warn.


**AN: This might be a one shot, or it might be some sort of a continued thing, whatever you want. But you gotta tell me, k? :D Enclosed by --'s is memories...**

* * *

--

"These were supposed to be…"

"Yeah. The best years of our lives. Shit, Remus. Look at us."

"I'm looking at you."

"How do I even know if I can trust you?"

"…can I trust you?"

"Remus–"

"No, I mean it, Sirius. This is changing us. You're absolutely right. The best years of our lives have been taken away by You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, well at least have the guts to say Voldemort."

"You always have to be right, don't you, Sirius? Can't just shut up and drop it. Gotta keep provoking until someone's trying to kill you! And since when does anyone but Dumbledore and his supporters say his name?"

"…"

"Where's the snappy comeback, _Padfoot_?"

"Can it, Lupin."

"Angry at me, Black?"

"Shut the _hell_ up you _fucking_ wolf!"

"…"

"Remus, don't, come on, you can't just walk away from–"

"_Watch me_."

--

It hadn't even been a real fight. When there was so much tension in the air, nothing had to be real, it was all just fear. Fear that, in the middle of the night, they'd get you, or your lover, or your child. The bleakness of the war years never faded. Harry had grown up in the worst of it, when people were starting to become terrified again. Eleven years, and things had shifted to the way they had been before. Anyone could be a traitor. You didn't have to wear the dark mark to support Voldemort, only to spy on your friends.

Bile rose up in his throat each time he thought of Sirius, so he tried to forget. His best friend… his _lover_… had betrayed them all. Peter, he had it coming. Hell, his animagus had been a rat, they should have known. But Sirius Black. He was their rebel, their vagabond, their jester, the one they'd trusted the most. He'd never believed any of that pureblood crap his parents had tried to impose upon him. He'd seen something in Remus that he could never have in himself, and that was mixed blood… and a kindness, and a diligence, and… a dark side. But he did have a dark side, and it was revealed in the betrayal of James… Oh Merlin, how Remus had to choke back sobs every time he thought of Prongs. No, it was best not to remember the past. He was going to forget all of it, the four of them sitting on the grounds together, talking about stupid things that teenagers always talk about. Death had crossed their minds, but they flung it aside, laughed at it. The biggest responsibility they had was to pass their OWL's. And the carefree way that James lived had enticed all of them, helped them live the same way: free. Of course James had been a stubborn, problem-causing asshole. But he'd also been a friend who was fiercely loyal. Remus had loved and admired him, and James had been ripped from him like a limb from his body. Sirius his right arm, James his left, and Peter could be his pinky toe. They were all missing now.

Remus grinned bitterly at the image. His broken body, arms torn off, along with his pinky toe, bleeding all over his kitchen rug… they wouldn't find him for weeks, and he would decay, and give off such a stench.

He shrugged and, with a blank mind, went to make tea the muggle way. Mostly because the ministry had been watching him recently, as they had all werewolves. The act to have all werewolves branded had fell through Parliament, but another one had passed, one that allowed the Ministry of Magic to watch any werewolf's use of magic... very closely. Bloody bastards, they were. They were making their problem worse, really. The more werewolves that hated the Ministry, the more werewolves that sided with You-Know-Who in the final battle. Assuming that there was going to be such a fight.

Remus laughed and eyed the sink of dirty dishes. Would have to do those by hand sometime soon. Best to do it before the roaches and rats came, too, though then he'd have something to eat besides tea. He laughed again at this thought, and took a dirty mug from the sink. In the tea bag went, then filling the kettle with water, putting it on the stove, grabbing the sparker and clicking it as he turned up the gas. There was a whoosh, and Remus jumped back, but the stove was lit. Another grin, and he grabbed the kettle and put it on the burner.

He wasn't going insane in his little hovel, he swore to any of the voices who would listen. Okay, so he didn't hear voices in his head... But he did like to make people up now and then. Say, a lively young seventh year with long black hair, dark eyes, and a taste for being fucked. Sometimes, when he had a bit more money on him than usual, his fantasies could become a reality, but usually it was his imagination that he was forced to wank to.

More money also meant more food, better robes, and more alcohol. More alcohol meant getting so drunk that he couldn't remember his own name, and _that_ was a good laugh, until he woke up the next morning and wished he were dead. Which wasn't really a change, but the pain was. The pounding, aching, itchy-eyed, dry-mouthed, burned-throat, head-against-a-board-hangover-pain was definitely not the kind he enjoyed. Especially in the morning.

Hell, he wished he had some extra cash. His body was too much in shambles to be an escort, but he was probably still good at it… years of practice don't just fall away, and he'd had plenty of time in eleven years to practice. He could teach defense, if the Ministry would let him… and of course, Dumbledore liked him enough, the manipulative old asshole.

Remus could never forget the torture Albus had put Severus through, his poor Severus. Remus remembered him as the shy, bookish boy, who was mixed blood like himself, who had been cold to him at first, but how their friendship had grown over seven years.

It had shattered when You-Know-Who killed James.

--

"Severus?"

"Remus–"

"Did you know about t-this? James… and _L-lily_…"

"Remus, don't cry! I swear I had no idea!"

"I don't believe you!"

"If I had known, I would have warned you, please, Remus, understand me, I–"

"No. N-never trusting any of you Slytherins, none of you slimy b-bastards again, a _Death Eater_, holy f-fuck, I sheltered you, I almost l-loved you…"

"Remus, please. Please."

"Stop! Just... stop it! Leave me alone..."

--

He must have lost his mind when Dumbledore flooed into his shabby apartment to tell him the bad news. Albus always seemed to be a harbinger of death.

Of course, if he knew he was crazy, was he really crazy?

No.

More laughter.

Of course not.

There was never going to be anymore trust. Remus wouldn't even trust a spoon to stay in one place overnight. After all, nothing was as you expected it to be. Nothing could be trusted, not even best friends, not even lovers.

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**AN: Okay, so, I was going to continue this with Sirius coming home to an insane Remus, and gaining back his trust... or I could just leave it at that? Or some other twist? My creativity's died again! SOS, mayday, mayday!**


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